


Salad Days

by hutchynstarsk



Series: Guinea Pig Wall [2]
Category: Starsky and Hutch - Fandom
Genre: Gen, post-SR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchynstarsk/pseuds/hutchynstarsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch is jealous... of guinea pigs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salad Days

Salad Days

Salad Days

  


The sequel to Guinea Pig Wall.  Post-SR.

  


  


“Guess what Laura did today, Hutch?”

“Something wonderful, amazing, and completely guinea-pig-like?” muttered Hutch, yanking the stapler towards him and banging it with the heel of his palm.A staple spit out and grabbed hold of the pages.He hit it again, just to be on the safe side—double staples.

Starsky raised his cane in the air and twirled it around, grinning.A few seconds of this and he began to unbalance.He put it on the floor again, quickly.He leaned on it and grinned down at Hutch.

“Well, she heard me open the fridge, and she ran from the back of her cage, squeaking so loud—” He chuckled, and shook his head.“She almost shoved her baby out of the way, and her ears were flying—Squeak!Squeak!Squeak!”Grinning, he sat down at his desk.He’d been cleared for desk duty, not yet for active duty.“She’s really somethin’, Hutch.And you should see how the baby’s growing—little Frankie.”

“Yeah, Frankie,” muttered Hutch.He grabbed another stack of pages and stapled them fiercely.

“You upset about somethin’, Hutch?”Starsky tilted his head, regarding him.

“Nope,” said Hutch, firmly.If messing around with his guinea pigs was making Starsky feel better—even if it meant he never shut up about them—well, it wasn’t Hutch’s job to complain.He should just be glad of anything that was helping his friend on the road to recovery after his shooting.

“Well.”Starsky sat back.His chair creaked slightly, and he slowly raised one foot to rest on the desk, grinned with relish when he succeeded, and then, slowly, raised the other one, a few inches, a few more. _Thump_.“Ah.Both feet!”He grinned at Hutch.“Talk about a ‘complishment!”

Hutch looked up, and couldn’t help smiling at him.“That’s right, partner.”  _Take pleasure in the small victories._ Hutch took another stack of papers and tapped the stapler more gently with the heel of his palm.

“Whoa!” With a loud clatter, Starsky’s chair fell.

“Starsk!”Hutch rushed around to him, and picked him up gently.“Starsk, are you all right?”He rubbed Starsky’s arms up and down.“Ready to get up?”

Starsky grinned at him, only slightly pained.“’M fine, Hutch!Can get up on my own.”He grabbed hold of his desk and inched himself up, pulling hard.“Can do it, Hutch.Mmhh.”He grunted with the effort.

Hutch slipped his arms around Starsky’s waist and gave him a little help.Starsky turned to him.“No, Hutch.Don’t help me.Gotta be strong on my own.Got some pretty little ladies at home I need to be strong to take care of.”He grinned what Hutch was starting to think of as his ‘patented guinea pig grin.’

_Of course.Of course you do._ Hutch nodded glumly and backed off.Starsky glanced at him again.

“Wassamatter, Hutch?You see kinda down today.Hm?”Starsky tilted his head, giving him a bright-eyed, questioning look.

“I’m fine, Starsk.”Hutch plopped down on his seat with a sigh.He scrubbed a hand back through his hair.Apparently, Starsky didn’t need him at all now.

He looked up a few minutes later.“Want me to bring pizza over tonight?”

Starsky gave him a nice smile, and shook his head.“No thanks, Hutch.I think I’m just gonna have a salad.”

Hutch raised his eyebrows.“Wow, you’re really getting into this healthy eating stuff!Good for you, Starsk.”He grinned, feeling proud of his partner.

Starsky gave a pleased, embarrassed shrug.“Well, I gotta take care of myself better now, Hutch.‘Sides…”He grinned suddenly.“…this way I can share supper with Laura and Frankie!Just wash up a pile of spinach an’ lettuce, a coupla tomatoes…”

Hutch scraped back his chair and strode from the squad room.

“Hutch?”Starsky’s puzzled voice followed him.He got up and hobbled after him, leaning on his cane, swinging himself after Hutch with practiced ease.“Somethin’ wrong, Hutch?”

“Wrong?Why would anything be wrong?”Hutch bent down at the candy machine and rattled the door, checking to see if anyone had left a candy bar.They hadn’t, of course.

Starsky laid a hand on his back.“Hutch, I can hear it in your voice.”He tapped his fingers on Hutch’s back.“Ya need a quarter?”He dug into his pocket.

Hutch stood up with a sigh.“How did this happen, Starsk?You’re eating lettuce and I’m eating candy bars.”He frowned at his friend, and laid a hand on his shoulder.“What’s happening to us?”

Starsky stopped searching for money and laid a hand on Hutch’s side.“Why don’t ya come over for salad instead, then?”

“And talk about nothing but your guinea pigs all night?No thanks.”

Starsky stared at him.“You—you’re jealous of my pets?”His voice rose a little, incredulously.

Hutch grimaced, and ran a hand back through his hair.“I guess I am, Starsk.”

Starsky blinked.“Well, why?”

“Because they’re all you talk about!It’s ‘Laura this,’ and ‘Frankie that.’And don’t you know you’re supposed to name pets non-human names, things like ‘Fluffy’ and ‘Spot?’”

Starsky shrugged.“I just name ‘em like I see ‘em.They seemed like a Laura and a Frankie to me.But about this being jealous.”He looked into Hutch’s face.“We need to work on that, hm?You know you’re more important than my pets, no matter how much I like ‘em.”

He patted Hutch’s side.“Why doncha come over and eat that salad with me—and pizza too, if you want.Just come over, okay?And I won’t talk about my girls.Promise.”He made a clumsy X over his chest and smiled at Hutch.

Hutch smiled; he couldn’t help it.Starsky’s coordination was improving, too.That X was less clumsy than it would have been even two weeks ago.“That sounds great, Starsk.I’d love to eat salad with you.”

“And if I start talking too much about ‘em again, you just give me a slug and tell me to cut it out.”He turned and headed back down the hall, leaning on his cane, swinging himself expertly down the hall.

Hutch watched him, smiling.He really was getting better.The hours of therapy and all of his hard work were paying off.And the guinea pigs, too.Having something small and furry to care about seemed to really help.

If Hutch was honest, he didn’t want Starsky to feel overly dependent on him.It could easily wreck the dynamic between them if Starsky felt he had to rely on Hutch for everything.

He wanted Starsky to be happy.He wanted him to be independent.

_Just…don’t forget about me, okay, Starsk?_

Later that day, he and Starsky toasted each other with wineglasses of water.Starsky couldn’t drink alcohol anymore; it interfered with his medication.

“Why do you think it’s so much harder for me to get over this than it is for you?” Hutch asked.He wasn't ashamed to ask this.He could always be honest with Starsky; it didn’t feel like an admission of guilt to admit he was having trouble.

He looked at Starsky, studying his face.It seemed thinner after his shooting, smaller—as if Starsky was no longer the larger-than-life partner he’d had for all these years, but someone smaller, fragile—and breakable.

Starsky took a gulp of water and set his wineglass down.

“I think it’s when you see me fall or something.I saw your face when I fell back on the chair today.You were panicking, like I was really hurt, and it was just a little spill.I used to take spills all the time—sometimes you were even the cause of ‘em.”He grinned.“I’m doing better now.I’m not going to die because I trip or something.But you still get this scared look on your face.And you don’t need to, Hutch.”

He reached for a slice of the vegetarian pizza Hutch had brought over.“This is good stuff, Hutch.”He picked off the black olives, and put them on Hutch’s plate.

“Thanks.”Hutch speared them absently with a forkful of salad.“I love you, Starsk.I want you to be okay.And you’re right, I can’t stand to see you hurt, and you’ve—you’ve been so game lately.Would you even let on if you were hurt?If you did need my help?I don’t want you to stop trying, buddy.I just want to help if you need it.”

Starsky smiled at him, and nodded.“Okay, Hutch.I’ll ask for your help—any time I need it.Believe it or not, I really already do.”He reached out across the table and squeezed Hutch’s hand.His grip was a little clumsy yet, but strong, far firmer than it had been.“And…you know I love you more than Frankie and Laura.”He gave Hutch a wink.

“I’d like to think so.”Hutch smiled and took another bite of salad.

“But you don’t.”Starsky’s voice was quiet.He gave Hutch’s hand another squeeze and let go, went back to eating his pizza.

He snuck a glance at Hutch’s face.“Why aren’t you more confident, Hutch?You and me have been tight for a long time, and nothing is going to change that—ever.Not my health or lack of it, not what you eat or don’t, and certainly not my little girls.”He grinned.“I sure wish you’d get that through your thick Hutchinson skull!”

Hutch smiled back, a little sheepishly.“You make me sound like a real basket case, Starsk.”

Starsky swallowed, and raised his eyebrows.“Maybe you are.”

He grinned suddenly. “But you’re  _my_  basket case.”

  


<<<>>>

  


_I know I read an ending line similar to this once.I believe it was something along the lines of, “But you’re my pain in the ass.”I think it was Hutch saying it to Starsky, after he’d been very whiny when he was ill._

_I didn’t intentionally copy that line.I don’t intentionally copy anyone’s writing, although I recognize that I’ve been influenced by all the great authors I’ve read over these past months._

_And, of course, there really are only so many plots in fandom…_

_This one is a variation of “post-SR, Hutch needing reassurance”, and "Hutch jealousy / guinea pig story.":)_  
  
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